


Dance For Me

by holdingtorches



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Comfort, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdingtorches/pseuds/holdingtorches





	Dance For Me

I was not having a good day.

The clumsiness of the new intern in the BBC Props department had delayed the shooting for the second episode of Sherlock‘s fourth season by a considerable amount of time. And to think I wrote most of that episode! I had helped out in the props department that day, hot glue-gunning bits and bobs together and following diagrams and all those kinds of things. Even though it wasn’t really part of my job description, I had to help any way I could just to follow the strict schedule set by the higher-ups. Leanna, the  _other_  intern, had “accidentally” spilt piping hot coffee down my favourite shirt. Well, it wasn’t really  _my_  shirt; it was my boyfriend’s shirt: a light cotton V-neck affair that was grey in the front and white at the back. The reason for the apostrophe marks containing the word ‘accidentally’? Everyone working on set knew that Leanna had the hots for my lad and was extremely jealous of me. To top it all off, I was on the second day of my period.

I boarded the Tube imagining a scene unfolding the moment I got home. I’d take out the quart of double chocolate fudge ice cream I’d been keeping in the deep recesses of the freezer and grab a spoon or two. I’d then rush to my boyfriend, and he’d cuddle me on the sofa while eating some of my ice cream and watching Chatty Man on the telly with me. I would take a nice, relaxing bath before crawling into bed with my man, who would then cuddle me some more and softly lull me to sleep while reading Shakespeare’s sonnets. I smiled at my fantasy, oblivious to the growing pain in my midsection and the stuffy, crowded train.

I was absolutely chuffed as I opened the door to their flat. Despite the pain brought on by my own Crimson Horror, there was a light skip in my step as I shed my coat off and headed to the fridge to take the quart of ice cream I had been saving for nights like this.

“Tom?” I called out excitedly as I grabbed a pair of spoons. I heard no reply, and I walked to the living room with the spoons in one hand and the ice cream in the other. The room was empty, save all the furniture and myself. Then I remembered.

Tom was at an awards show, and I had declined his offer to make me his date because of the schedule setbacks. I sighed heavily, disappointed in my loneliness. I sulked back to the kitchen and placed the ice cream back in the freezer and the spoons back in the drawer. I decided to take that shower I dreamt of in the Tube, then I put on my pyjamas and crashed into the bed. I shifted a bit, my head on the wrong end of the bed. Laying on my front, I nested my head in my arms and groaned. I wish I could peacefully drift to sleep….

* * *

 

I heard the creak of the door opening and the padded sound of footsteps hobbling in the direction of our room. Another creak from a nearer door sounded, and Tom found me.

He looked just as amazing as ever, his tie loose and his suit unbuttoned. Tomwas holding his award in both hands, but immediately set it down on the table under the telly after seeing me. My face was pressed against the mattress; my hands had crept without my knowing to my belly. I was unable to sleep due to my cramps, and my hair messier than a bird’s nest.  

“What time is it?” I groaned, my period obviously making everything worse. I felt a cocktail of emotions: angry because I was born with two X chromosomes, utterly tormented and driven mad because of the infuriatingly excruciating pain, and bitter because the stunning man in front of me never had to and never will go through this kind of suffering in his entire life.

“It’s 11:30. Saoirse, what’s wrong? Tell me, darling,” Tom said, crouching down to look at me closely. I looked up to face him, and I saw concern in his eyes. I shifted to see his face a bit more clearly, my arms finding their way under my chin. His pupils were dilated, his lips were pursed together. He exhaled, and I felt his hot breath wash over my face. For a second, the pain melted as the mix of emotions in me settled down. It felt good to have him here with me, his gaze proving all the promises he’d whisper in my ear whenever he thought I was asleep. All of a sudden, a sharp stab of pain pierced through the surreal moment, forcing my arms to rush back to my belly. I curled up on my side, tearing away from Tom’s gaze.

“Period,” I nearly shrieked. The spasms were intensifying; it felt as if I was punched in the gut with brass knuckles, the pain burrowing deeper than a gold digger in search of a sugar daddy.

I started sobbing and, given my position, Tom couldn’t do anything but rub his hand back and forth on my arm. My eyes squeezed shut; the torture was unbearable. My lad stayed there for a while, his fingers stroking my arm lightly or occasionally combing through my hair.

“Just wait here, darling,” Tom said as my weeping died down.  I heard his footsteps again, and I looked up to see him open the door leading to the bathroom. “I won’t take long, I promise,” he said before closing the door shut behind him

He came back five minutes later in soft pyjama bottoms and a white shirt. His hair was still a bit wet from the shower he had and despite the distance between us, I was able to smell his amazing scent from where I was. I saw his bare feet and lightly pursed my lips; I only realised then that his feet were quite pretty. My mood swings may or may not have contributed to that epiphany. He crawled into bed and knelt by my side.

“Would you like me to massage your lower back, darling?” he offered, ghosting his hand down my spine. I obliged, turning to lie on my stomach while letting my legs unfurl from the foetal position I was in. I winced as a sharp pang of pain demanded to be noticed. I rested my head on my forearms again as Tom hoisted himself up on his knees before straddling the backs of my legs where my knees caved in. I felt the warmth from his powerful thighs seep through the layers of clothing between us, and I let out a moan. I mentally cursed my period; his gesture had made me feel so horny.

“Is this alright with you, love?” he murmured as he found his balance on me. I whispered a soft ‘yes’ as his palms gently roamed my back. Tom’s long fingers brushed against my hips before gripping my waist, his thumbs on the sides of my back. His thumbs started to knead gently down my lower back, and I felt the ache slowly trickle away. His hands then drifted down to my bottom, and my eyes snapped wide open. I gasped, and I heard Tom chuckle softly before placing his hand under my pyjama top to touch my skin. The heat radiating from his fingertips surged through my body the moment his fingers met my skin, easing the knots in my back. He continued massaging me, his palms applying just the right amount of pressure to make me feel as if I was in heaven. Blood was racing through my veins, yet somehow, the crimson horror was losing its ferocity. Soon, the pain had vanished altogether, and I felt so relieved.

Tom leant in, his chest pressed against my back and his lips pressed tenderly against my ear.

“Does it feel better, my angel?” he breathed, setting his hands on my waist again. I vigourously nodded against my arms, and he lifted his leg to move away from me. I felt the bed shift beneath me as he stepped off the bed. Tom knelt in front of me and clasped my hands in his. He studied my face quietly, his tongue briefly flickering over his lower lip. My eyes widened, and he let out a small laugh.

“You still feel awful, don’t you?” he chuckled, and I looked away. Damn right he was. The massage incredible, yes, but I was still glum from everything that happened that day. The stress was still racking my mind, and I felt too serious for comfort.

“Do I have a show for you, then,” he grinned, and I looked at him quizzically.

“Just close your eyes, Saoirse,” he whispered excitedly, “and don’t open them ‘til I say so,”

I shut my eyes and waited, curious. What show could he have prepared for me?

I heard ‘Lady (Hear Me Tonight)’ by Modjo play on our speakers, and cocked my head to the side.

“Open your eyes now, darling,” Tom softly said in front of me. I opened my eyes to see him just a metre from me, his blue eyes twinkling with delight. From my view, nothing had changed concerning him; he was still in his white shirt and pyjama pants. Well, nothing except the big toothy grin curving his mouth. My eyebrows scrunched together, wondering what he was possibly up to.

Just as I was about to open my mouth and ask him what his show was, he started thrusting his hips in the air.

Oh shit.

He. Was. Dancing.

I rose to sit on the edge of the bed; I definitely did  _not_  want to miss this. My jaw dropped as he raised his arms to his chest and started shoving a little more. I saw a mischievous glint in his eyes before he transitioned to his next step: his so-called ‘snake hips’. I watched as his hips gyrated, and he was grinning to himself. The dork.

He popped and locked, his arms moving sharply yet gracefully as his bedroom slippers-clad feet glided effortlessly from side to side on the hardwood floor. He turned a full 360 degrees, his arms outstretched wide. He stayed still for a moment, save his hips, which had started thrusting again. I looked up to find him staring at me, a smug smile playing on his lips. Shit. He had caught me staring at the D, hadn’t he?

His long legs slid open and close for a while until he balanced on one leg to alternately move the other from the front of his leg to its back, his fingertips reaching the tip of his bedroom slippers. I watched as he was on both feet again, his legs moving in an intricate array of motions. To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t bring myself to describe how he danced; every move of his had utterly overwhelmed me, down to the sexy, accentuated sway of his hips.

The music stopped, and a sultry smile played on his lips. He stared at me through hooded eyes, setting my blood alight with unwanted, inappropriate desire. All of a sudden, Steve Vai’s ‘Tender Surrender’ wafted through the room, and my eyebrows perked up in surprise. He inched towards me, his deliberation spiking so much torment within me. The tip of his tongue poked out to dab his lips briefly before stopping in front of me, my face just inches away from his… glorious purpose. He leant closer, one knee on the mattress while his other leg supported him. He tilted my face up to meet his gaze, his breath washing over my face.

Tom’s lips touched mine, hesitant and sweet at first. But as the music intensified, his love and passion leaked through his kisses, his hands on my waist as he guided me down on the bed. His chest pressed lightly against me as his hands slid up from my waist to got elsewhere. His forearms supported him as he deepened the kiss, his fingers locking themselves loosely around my wrists. Tom seemed oblivious to the tautness of my grip on his soft curls, which only tightened when I felt something hard nudge my thigh. Oh no. ‘Not tonight, of all nights,’ I thought to myself as I silently, violently cursed my period for the entire sentient universe to hear. The song came to its climax, and Tom broke the kiss to caress my neck. His lips moved against my throat, urging the heat in my veins to rush to every single cell in my body.

The song died down, its tempo similar to its beginning. Tom shifted me, my back facing him as he hugged me from behind. As he spooned me, I once again felt something warm poke my back. It felt soft through the layers of clothing between us, but I tell you, it wasn’t.

“Darling,” I murmured once the song had really faded, feeling quite sleepy. Despite my grogginess, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep, not until the… thing prodding my back had relaxed. “…I see you’ve pitched a tent.”

“Ehehehe,” he whispered softly into my ear before kissing my cheek tenderly. “We can always take care of that another time, my darling Saoirse. Go to sleep now, my angel.”

And with that I slipped quietly to sleep. My periods sometimes are the best periods ever.


End file.
